A/N: An AU of my Green AU where I asked myself: What if Olive lived?

This is literally mostly fluff and adorably badass Hobbits, and its Olive/Ori. Since he has completely different life experiences in this AU, I don't think Bilbo and Dori would work out the same, but I was thinking that Bifur would (You'll see what I mean).

So, anyways, Enjoy!

Grow

Once upon a time, in the rolling green hills of the Shire, there was a genteel Hobbit named Bilbo Baggins, who fell in love with a sweet Hobbitlass names Lilac Narrowfoot. The two had been young, both just out of their Tweens, and Bilbo had been of better standing, with his large Smial and the Baggins fortune and the treasure his mother (Green Lady bless her soul) had left behind from her many adventures. The two had courted quickly, eager to just get along with their marriage, and, even though they shook their heads at the impatience of young love, young Lilac's family finally agreed, but on one condition.

Bilbo and Lilac had to prove that their love was true and Grow a Faunt.

This was, at the time, seen as a sort of blanket permission. After all, it was unheard of for a Hobbit to not be able to grow a Faunt! Even single Hobbits could, although it was heavily frowned upon, as a single Hobbit would need help to raise a babe, especially if their Family couldn't help, but it was still possible if their love and magic were strong enough.

But, as the pod grew in the Baggins Family Garden, beneath the same strong birch that had seen Bilbo himself grow, a realization had seemed to come to those who were keeping an eye on the young, soon-to-be parents. For you see, even as the pod grew, and the two seemed so entranced and eager to greet their young Faunt, young Lilac seemed to become more hesitant. More cautious. And, it was in the early days of Autumn, as the pod grew closer to curl open to present their Faunt, those older Hobbits who had been watching, noticed a… change, in the young lass.

Oh, it was clear that she still loved the growing Faunt, still poured that love into the good earth to see the babe come to blossom, but the love she had declared for young Bilbo, the attention and joy and care, had swiftly began to decline as the Blossoming Day grew closer. Poor young Bilbo, unfortunately, never seemed to realize, and was more than happy to talk with those who asked about both their Faunt and the future marriage, which he wished to have done the next Spring, as was tradition. Many a Hobbit shook their heads in sympathy and commented on the tunnel vision of love, sighing over how, no doubt, the lad's heart would be broken when he realized. But still, they agreed, it was good that young Lilac realized that she was not ready to be both a Wife and Mother now, then a decade and however many babes from now.

Little Olive Baggins Blossoming Day was on one of the last warm days of Autumn, before the Frost of Winter was set to come. She had gained her fathers lovely curly, dark-blond hair and her mother's cinnamon freckles and eyes. And, a week after her Blossoming, Lilac Narrowfoot left her with her father to return to her own Family's Smials. For days afterward, Bilbo Baggins was seen wandering through the market, Faunt in his arms and a lost, hurt look on his face.

It took several years for Bilbo to stop staring longingly after Lilac whenever she came to pick up their daughter for a few weeks at a time. It wasn't until Lilac married Hondo Sackville-Baggins that he finally laid his unrequited love to rest. And, in that time, little Olive continued to grow.

As the years passed, there was many a Hobbit who commented on Olives looks, how she was growing into quite the looker with her curly, dark gold hair and cinnamon eyes, her dimpled smile and sleek, large feet. Her quick wit and sharp mind were also points of note. How unfortunate, those same commenters would remark with shaking heads, that she had taken far too much of the Took from her Da. And, indeed, she had.

Sweet and kind as she was, Olive would rather go on adventures in the woods, searching for interesting plants and animals, than play tea party with the other young girls. She would rather wear trousers while out and about than dresses, often complaining about how they weighed her down, and what if she had to run from something, hmm? And, though they tried, no lad could catch her attention for long, not unless they were a Took or there to tell her about an adventure they'd had. Yes, little Olive was, despite her Baggins name, far more Took than her own Da had been, and many a Hobbit tutted and murmured.

Lilac tried her best to dissuade her daughter from such things. She insisted that Olive wear dresses and bows, that she sit in at Tea Time and work on her doilies and knitting, that she learned to make the specific types flower crowns and help care for Faunts. She insisted that Olive start considering her options for marriage, often remarking on whichever young 'respectable' Hobbit lad who would keep her in comfort and propriety (these usually being Proudfoot, Sackville-Baggins, and Cotton lads, all of whom had large Smials, large families, and no Took blood at all). Because of her nagging and pushing, however, Olive strove to be the opposite of what those lads would find 'comely'. For, as much as she loved her Mother, Olive loved her independence and freedom far more than her Mother's or her Family's opinion.

This was where young Bilbo shined in his daughter's life. For, Bilbo had been just as wild and adventurous and Tookish as his daughter, when he'd been of her age. So, he knew, from experience, that chiding and scolding wouldn't work on her, not for long, and that the more he pushed for propriety, the less he'd receive. So, Bilbo didn't stop his daughter, instead he aided her. He dug out his Mother's dusty travelling gear and books, pulled his Father's studies and biographies of his Mother's adventures from the shelves, and pulled on his best Walking Holiday clothes. And he taught her.

He showed her how to make a fishing trap out of reeds, how to gut and de-scale and cook them over flames. He told her which plants were for healing, for poison, for looks and for seasoning. He went with her into the woods, gave her sling and stone and whispered lessons as they hunted for rabbits and quails together. And, despite the chiding looks and mutters of their neighbors, strongly stood his ground against many a would-be suitor for Olive, and against their mothers and fathers who sought to set up an 'understanding'. No, Olive would choose who she married when she was good and ready, and not a moment sooner, thank you very much, Master Cotton!

And, through the years, there were many things they learned together, despite neither one of them setting foot further than Bree and Tookborough.

And, now mere months from her Majority, Olive was more than happy to rid her hands of her Mother's Smial to move into her Da's. For, while Bilbo had refused to allow any other to take permanent residency in his childhood Smial, she knew she would always be welcome, no matter her age or circumstance.

And so it was that Olive Baggins found herself alone in Bag-End, her Da off to the Late Market to buy enough food to make a proper celebration of her moving in. They'd had to call on a few of the local lads to move the larger dining table into the empty Party Hall (after giving it a good dusting and sweep, of course), and already she had managed to cover it with many a kind of food for their Dinner (Her Da insisted on taking care of Supper, after all, and they'd both decided a lighter Tea would be best). And, while she wasn't as good as her Mother at desserts, or as good as her Da at savory dishes, she was far from inadequate.

There were thick lamb cutlets seasoned with parsley and rosemary, spicy and savory sausages as thick as two fingers and twice as long. Warm, thick bread cut and buttered, some seasoned with garlic, some with nutmeg, and still others with jam or honey or marmalade. There was a honey-glazed ham twice the size of her head (taken from a boar that had attacked Farmer Maggots dogs, poor things), stewed and broiled vegetables glazed in either vinegar or butter or light honey. There was a thick potato stew in a massive vat that would last them a good few days, even with a quarter of it set on the table. Large potatoes that had been roasted in the fire pit out back beneath a large side of beef that was so tender she had no doubt that there would be many a delicious sandwich to be had in the following day or so. Baked cauliflower smothered in thick cheese beside a bowl of mashed turnips and potatoes, seasoned with ground sausage and bacon.

Large, roasted heritage tomatoes rested beside fried cucumber and long kebabs of roasted potatoes, beef, sausage, and squash. A truly massive quartet of salmon, fire-cooked and stuffed with fried mushrooms and a brandy-sauce, took a large piece of table to themselves, with still more plates covered in halibut fillets seasoned with lemongrass, on a bed of mixed beans, corn, and peas. Six freshly plucked grouse had been left whole after baking and stuffed with their own gizzards fried with bell peppers, mushrooms, and baby corn. A dozen mutton-pies no larger than her palm fought for space alongside equally-sized rabbit pies, all around a large plate of roasted carrots so soft them melted in the mouth.

And, at the end of the table, her favorite part of Dinner (besides the dessert) was waiting: a fresh, hot roll of Black Pudding, with bowls of goat cheese that had been worked into a fine, soft spread.

Sighing, pleased even as she used a handkerchief to wipe the sweat from her face, Olive could only beam proudly at her work. They'd be eating various snacks and treats from the left-overs for at least three days, but it was more than worth it when she got to control the kitchen for as long as she had today. After all, despite all her nagging and tutting, her Mother never tended to leave her alone in the kitchen long enough for Olive to spread her wings and try new seasonings and the like, especially not without finally declaring that 'she'd just do it, go sit down dear!'. Her Da liked to cook things together, and that was always fun, but this was her work and, besides, he'd gotten so flustered earlier that day, what with the Wandering Wizard coming by and getting him all upset with questions and back-handed comments, it was only right that Olive take over Dinner while her Da took his stroll through the Market.

It also gave her time to let her pies, cobblers, and cookies cool safely in the kitchen and away from little fingers (although she may have 'accidentally' left a few trays of 'mistake' treats on the sill for those hungry Faunts that 'just so happen' to wander past on their way home. She wasn't heartless, after all!).

She might have just enough time to make some custard before her Da got back and—

The sudden, heavy-sounding knock on the Smial door startled her, making her scramble to keep from dropping her 'kerchief even as she glanced at the nearest window, using the sun to check the time.

"It's almost Dinnertime," she murmured, brows furrowing as she trotted towards the door. "It must be important, then. Oh, I hope no one's hurt…" Quickly stuffing her 'kerchief into the pocket of her apron (wearing a dress willingly for once, a nice, deep orange with silver outlines of marigolds along the hems) before she pulled the door open.

"…Oh…" she breathed, eyes wide, as she looked up, and up, and up, at the large, broad form of the, quite frankly, intimidating Dwarf that stood on the welcome mat, his broad shoulders, covered in armor and with two large weapons (Was that a Warhammer?! And an Axe?! Oh dear...) making the doorframe seem so utterly fragile that, for a moment, Olive felt the world almost tilt sideways. The Dwarf seemed, thankfully, just as stunned as she did, dark eyes widening as he glanced past her at the open door and back, blinking once and straightening, taking a step back so that she wouldn't have to crane her neck nearly so much, and clearing his throat awkwardly, bald head (covered in tattoos, and Olive wanted to see if they were real or fake, like the time Phosphor Brandybuck had used a staining plant to dye his hair purple for a week when they were Faunts).

"Dwalin, at your Service, Miss," the Dwarf rumbled, dipping into a deep bow as he did, and Olive blinked twice before dipping into a curtesy.

"O-Olive Baggins, at yours, Mister Dwalin," she responded, straightening up as the Dwarf did so. "Um, my Da isn't in at the moment, if that's who you're looking for—he had to run down to the Market for more food. May I ask why you're here, sir?" If anything, the Dwarf's expression grew even more awkward.

"Tharkun, the Wizard that is, said that we would be fed and housed tonight at the burrow of the Hobbit who was to be our Burg… Ah, our guest," he amended quickly, blinking, "on our Quest. He said it was the one with a Rune on the door."

"Rune?" Olive asked, blinking and turning sharply to look at the door. "Oh dear," she mused, staring at the, rather pretty, glowing form that had been scratched into the pretty green paint. "Da won't be happy, he just had that painted, oh dear," she mused, shaking her head with a hum. Now that she had a moment, had been distracted from the Dwarf's sudden arrival, the awkwardness he held was almost endearing. "Well, there's no choice, and let no one ever say a Baggins ever allowed a guest to go hungry, even unexpected ones! Come in, Mister Dwalin!" She cheerfully declared, offering him a bright, dimpled smile. "You're lucky that I cooked too much for the simple celebration my Da and I were going to have, there's more than enough for you to join us…" Dwalin hesitated, before grunting in agreement and cautiously following her inside, agreeably kicking off his massive boots (such queer things, boots. Most unbecoming and downright strange to see them up close for the first time.) He hesitated, before taking his Warhammer and Axe and carefully setting them in the empty chest that Olive pointed at after a quick glance around. It was usually for holding winter quilts for guests, but those were packed away in storage.

"Now, the food is all out and ready, if you'd like to start eating," Olive told him cheerfully, leading him to the Party Hall and feeling rather gratified when he sputtered, gaping at all the food. Poor Dwarf, no doubt he was only eating the standard three meals most non-Hobbit folk somehow survived on, and, if he'd been travelling, perhaps even less than that. Shaking her head a bit, Olive turned and offered him a bright grin.

"There's dessert for after, as well, if you'd like," she told him kindly as he blinked slowly at the food. "And you said 'we' when you spoke earlier, so does that mean you and the Wizard alone or are there more guests we should be expecting?"

"Twelve," he told her, voice slightly dazed as he swayed forward a bit, breathing in the smell of the food with such obvious relish that Olive found herself flushed a bit, pleased as a peach with his obvious enjoyment of her food before he'd even tasted it. This Dwarf was doing wonders for her confidence, truly! "There are, ah, twelve other Dwarrow that'll be makin' th'r way here, and soon," he continued, and Olive blinked rapidly, mouth dropping open again.

"Twelve?!" She yipped, clapping her hands to her mouth. "But, but! But there isn't! There won't be! Oh, Green Lady, I've got to make more food!" She squeaked, fluttering her hands about in dismay. "A Baggins never lets their guests go hungry, Mister Dwalin, and I will not be the first!" She declared, a determined moue coming to her face, cheeks puffing out a little bit. "And while I may not be the sort of cook that my Da is, I have no doubt that I shall be able to feed the lot of you, Da and self and stickybeaked Wizard and all!" She declared fiercely, hands falling to her hips as she nodded determinedly. "If you wouldn't mind, Mister Dwalin, I could use your assistance before you start eating," she added, turning to peer up at the Dwarf, who nodded cautiously, one thick brow raised (And goodness, despite his hairless scalp he was still hairy, thick beard and arms covered as well, even his knuckles!).

And, in moments, she had, with his help, managed to move several extra chairs into the Party Hall, as well as carried several more cooking pots from the second kitchen (usually only used when the Baggins or Tooks were about to host a Party or Festival) as well as more food from the Second Pantry. He was happy enough to also heave several kegs of Ale, Cider, and Brandy up from the cellar, as she carried three bottles of wine and another of the clear-colored Gamgee Gut-Rot that her Da didn't think she knew about.

And, as she left him to happily munch on an entire batch of nutmeg-pumpkin cookies as he watched the door for his Kin and Company, Olive rolled up her non-existent sleeves, shoved her dark gold hair into a messy, curly bun, and threw herself at the kitchen with the gleam of challenge in her cinnamon eyes.

A few hours later, the sound of a great many voices chattering in a strange language had settled into a pleasant background sound as she darted and stirred and kneaded until her whole body felt as limp as an over-cooked string of asparagus. And, after she'd finished putting several batches of cookies, cakes, and pies into the oven to cook, Olive heard the startled cry of her Da as he finally returned to find their Smial invaded, and couldn't help her grin as she darted from the kitchen, spinning around a trio of jovially shoving Dwarves as she did so, laughing as she ducked under the arm of the gray-clad, unnaturally tall form of what had to be the Wizard, and threw herself, flour and stain covered as she was, into her sputtering father's arms as he stood, gaping, in the entryway beside what had to be the surliest (and prettiest) Dwarf she'd ever seen (and considering she'd only really met Dwalin, that was not hard to accomplish, though she had never been one to focus on Looks opposed to Heart, but still, she had eyes!)

"Da, Da!" She cheerfully called, giggling madly as he caught her despite his stunned state, green eyes wide as he glanced from her to the crowded madhouse of a Party Hall they'd found themselves with. "The Wizard told them we'd feed them and house them and Mister Dwalin has been most helpful and charming, but I don't think I should let you do Supper by yourself now," she told him happily, grinning up at him.

"Ah, well, that is to say," her Da sputtered, blinking rapidly, and Olive grinned even wider, giggling and nearly light-headed from the rush of trying to cook so much as quickly as she could. "…They've been polite, then?" He finally managed, almost plaintive, and Olive bobbed her head cheerfully.

"The one I spoke to was," she told him happily. "Mister Dwalin was just as surprised as I was when I opened the door, but don't be mad at the Dwarves, Da, Mister Gandalf told them you were expecting them, and I couldn't just kick them out with that sort of thing, now could I? Couldn't call myself a Baggins if I did," she sniffed, and, finally, Bilbo let out a stuttering breath, lifting a hand to press it to his heart with a sigh, shoulders slumping.

"No, no, I understand," he told her, patting the flour from her clothes absently after taking a step back. "You've done a wonderful job, sweetling, just, ah," he paused and sent the Wizard nearby a vicious stink-eye that was Pure Great-Grandmother Baggins. "Let me have a chat with the Stickybeak, will you?"

"Yes, Da," Olive agreed cheerfully, grinning, before turning bright eyes to the staring Dwarf (And oh, he had such Took-Blue eyes, too! Pity about his surliness, but, well, some Folk just don't have the strength of will at times to be happy). "Hello there, sir!" She greeted him as she stepped away from her Da, the older Hobbit already stalking over to grab the Wizard by his long, grey beard and drag him down the hall sputtering, her Da hissing like a scalded cat all the way. "Olive Baggins, at your service!" She told him with a curtsey; the Dwarf gave her a long stare, before dipping into a curt bow.

"Thorin Oakenshield, at yours," he told her stiffly; Olive clapped her hands together smartly with a nod.

"This way then, Mister Oakenshield," she urged, flicking her hands at him (a little rudely, but, well, she was a wee bit impatient to finally lay eyes on these other Dwarves that were making shut a cheerful ruckus of her Da's Hall.) to get him moving. As soon as he entered, the whole room roared in greeting, and more than one piece of food went flying as the Dwarves all swarmed Mister Oakenshield, herding him to a spare seat and chattering in their deep, growly Tongue. It made Olive think of stones and thunder and mountains, much like the Green Tongue brought to mind flowers and trees and spring rain, and Elvish brought the wind and sea and a soft fog drifting by. Common was, well, like grass and mud and a clear sky, she mused as she greeted Dwalin and the shorter Dwarf next to him he introduced as his brother, Balin.

"At your service, sir!" Olive chirped back as Balin kissed the back of her hand.

"Are you the one who cooked all of this delightful food, my dear?" Balin asked, gentle smile and eyes that matched his brother in dark coloring.

"Yes sir," she replied immediately, pleased as she cast a quick eye over the still full table, taking note of what was gone and what had barely been touched (mostly vegetables, she noted, but that was fine, she dearly wanted some for herself, after all).

"You are quite talented, then, my dear," Balin complimented. "It's been a very long time since we've had a meal both so delicious and filling, right, Brother?" he asked; Dwalin bobbed his head, tacking a deep gulp of ale before he responded.

"Oh, aye, Brother," he agreed easily. "An' ye said that there'd be more after, aye, Lass?" Olive, despite feeling rather flattered at the compliments (which were very high by Hobbit standards indeed, these Dwarves really were doing wonders for her confidence in the kitchen, that was sure!), was rather amused to note a distinct flush to the massive Dwarf's cheekbones that had nothing to do with heat and everything to do with drink.

"Aye, Mister Dwalin, Mister Balin, there will be dessert later," she told them, beaming at Balin. "And much thanks for the compliments! It's not often I get to cook, so I took great pleasure in doing so for you and yours tonight." Balin waved away her thanks before he was distracted by Mister Oakenshield and Olive found herself slipping away to refill mugs and be introduced to each Dwarf as she passed (although she got rather flustered as she found herself admiring Mister Bombur's hearty appetite, and, were it not for the off-hand mention of him being married, and also her own mothers age in equivalency, she would have found herself flirting a bit. As it was, after making sure he was able to reach all that he wished, and his mug was full, she wandered away with a wistful sigh.).

By the time her Da had finished scolding the Wizard, Olive had finally been shuffled into a seat by a rather polite, if gruff, Mister Bifur (who had rather worried her, with the axe sticking from his forehead, but once she ascertained whether it pained him or not, she simply treated him like Uncle Reebo, something that seemed to endear her to the friendly, badger-colored Dwarf.) With a plate of food and a cup of cider at her elbow, Olive was happily eating her own Dinner, pleased to find a good bit of Black Pudding left for her as she did.

"The food for Supper is away," her Da told her with a sigh as he finished being introduced to the Dwarves to take his seat next to her, looking rather frazzled as he eyed the cheerful lot around them. "We'll at least have them well-fed for their venture, even if I've told that Stickybeak again and again that I'll not be going, wherever it is," he groused, huffing as he cut into his food. "Is there lemongrass in this?" he asked, surprised as he bit into the halibut.

"Yes," Olive told him cheerfully, watching with fascination as the star-haired Dwarf she learned was Mister Nori manage to somehow tie the two young brothers (Fílí and Kílí she was told) with a string of sausages that she knew had been hanging in the second pantry…

"It's very good," he complimented idly as he ate, and Olive beamed as she ate as well, the two of them settling comfortably as the Dwarves continued to dash and hoot and roar at one another.

It was, all together, a wonderful night in the usually quiet Smial, if Olive did say so.

A/N: There we go, some Ori interaction next chapter (I gave Dwalin the spotlight because he's adorable fight me). In this, Bilbo is 55 instead of the Canon 50, so that Olive will be of age (33). Her birthday is on Durin's Day, btw.

The lemongrass & halibut is a recipe I love, only with tilapia instead of halibut (I'll have to try it though...) and the mixed vegetables its on is the Sante Fe Mixed Veggies you can buy in the frozen foods section of the grocery store. They're reeeeeeally good, no lies!

Birch - New Beginnings

Lilac - Pride, Beauty

Olive - Peace

Marigolds - Affection, Trouble, Fate

Please review!